Still Warmer
by ChuckingMuffins
Summary: Julie helps R as he struggles with the side effects of his new life, and the effects it has had on the community within the Stadium.
1. Chapter 1

The first time it happened I was alone.

Alone and horrified, to say the least, at the sight of the dark black pool of blood staining the sidewalk in front of me. The sensation hit me like a bus, and I was unsure whether the vile, nauseous cramping feeling deep in my stomach or the sheer shock was worse. I don't know how long it had been since I vomited, or even felt remotely sick, but it hit me hard and fast and I was kneeling on the ground below me, expelling the black death from me within seconds.

My hands shook violently, reverberating up my arms and into my wheezing chest. Flashbacks of the dark days fill my head, images of skulls crushed and brain matter spattered all over my neck and arms, hands grasping at flesh, ripping and tearing. When I was dead all that filled my brain were these images, less clear but better welcomed; now I spend my nights trying to forget, willing them out of my vision and into the dark parts of my mind where I don't have to think of them.

I was doing so well today, too, minding my business outside the stadium walls on my way to the inner city on a shopping mission, Julie's birthday gift ideas floating around in my mind, dancing with the guilty feelings of lies and sneaking around, forcing away the darker images for a while. But instead there I was, staring shell-shocked into my pile of black muck on the sidewalk. The stench was rancid, like someone grounded up day old roadkill and served it on a concrete platter, the color a shade lighter red than the oily paste that clotted my veins weeks earlier. I stayed there for a while, waiting for more, wondering from where in my body it had come and why. It made no sense why after weeks of living a normal, human life – eating, sleeping, sweating, bowel movements, and all other bodily functions – now my body was expelling the left overs of my dead life. Was the plague still inside of me?

After a few minutes of panicked contemplation I stood and shook myself off, wiping my hands off in the grass beside me and ditching the now-stained hoodie I had stolen from the late Grigio's closet. It was freezing out this early in the morning, and I knew I probably should have waited to find a replacement before leaving my source of warmth but in some weird way I enjoyed the cold, welcomed the cold dew nipping at my arms, raising the hairs there and running a shiver up my spine and causing my hands to shake harder than they already had been. Call me a masochist, but after years of feeling utterly blank you start to take feelings willingly when they come to you, painful or terrifying, satisfying and erotic and everything in between. Which is why I tried not to think too much on my episode on the sidewalk, resolving that it was just a part of the healing process, the bodies final attempt at expelling my sickness from me. I continued on into the city, found what I was looking for – an old jewelry store.

The store itself was long since emptied, the display cases turned on their sides, glass broken. From the outside it looked like a dead end but I pushed further into the store anyways, carefully sliding along the open space between the broken glass cases until I reached the backroom, empty and destroyed as well. I managed to get a shelving unit off it's side and upright again, finding beneath it a heavy oriental rug. Pulling it back revealed what I had hoped it would, a hatch leading down into the basement in which I found an assortment of beautiful, sparkling treasures. It was like something out of a pirate movie, X marks the spot... if X were a dusty old rug.

I spent hours in the dim room with just a flashlight and a bag, filling it with potential presents, the amusing image of a little boy at a yacht club on Halloween entering my head, going from door to door of all the boats filling his bag with necklaces and rings in place of sugary goods. When I did finally finish my selection, I left with my bag and flashlight to make my way back to the stadium where Nora was waiting for me in her empty room, having told Julie some story about being sick and how she shouldn't be near. My excuse wasn't nearly as easy, an elaborate tale had to be woven and even after it was told and believed by Julie herself it felt flimsy and see through, like halfway through the day she would figure out my plan and come looking for me. But she hadn't found me yet if she was looking, and I had made my way back through the stadium doors and into Nora's apartment without fail. She snatches the bag from my hands without so much as a hello and dumps the items onto her bed, glaring at them with intense scrutiny. We argued for hours on what decision to make (she had at first decided that I had chosen all wrong and that I should go back for more, of which I thoroughly disagreed and told her she could go herself if she so wanted) but eventually settled on two items, one from me and one from her. My condition was that we pick the two best pieces and I give her whichever Nora thought she would like best. A ring seemed too much from me, so a shiny silver band embedded with blue stones rests in a box wrapped in thin newspaper and tied together with a pink ribbon, the words 'from Nora' scribbled on the side. It had been my favorite, the band simple yet elegant, but I was apparently not allowed to give it to Julie, a ring an 'inappropriate' gift from someone so new into a relationship... I didn't realize there were certain zombie-boyfriend approved gifts, but I obliged either way. I knew that Julie wouldn't think anything of it, but I had the feeling that Nora had really wanted the gift to be from her so I let it pass, deciding on a rose gold watch instead. Simple yet useful, beautiful in a less noticeable sort of way. I rubbed my shirt sleeve up and down the band over and over, attempting to bring a shine back into the old metal, and boxed it with a bow when I was satisfied.

I was halfway to the Grigio house when I wished that my jacket was still with me, my thin polo lacking the hiding pockets that the hoodie had. I managed to sneak it past Julie in my back pocket, her welcoming kiss almost forcing it out, but I back her against a wall and push it back down while she's distracted. It takes every fiber of self control my new body has to detach myself from her body in order to find a hiding spot for her secret gift. I claim hunger and she leaves me to serve a plate of plain rice and microwaved broccoli for me while I changed, ripping through clothes and shoes until I found an old, barely used pair of boots in her closet and shove it inside, ripping off my shirt and grabbing the first one around, pulling it on. I turned around just as she entered the room, smiling and holding two plates of unappealing, bland mush. I smiled and kissed her cheek as I took the plate from her, and she snickered when she saw my shirt was on backwards. I set the plate down to fix it and instead found myself ripping clothes off instead of putting back on. First my shirt, then hers, her food a forgotten mess on the floor beside the bedside table. I lifted her, new muscles straining as she wrapped her legs around my hips and started grinding into me. I wished I hadn't skipped that day's physical therapy as I walk her over to the bed, back muscles strained, screaming in protest. I ignored it of course, used to the sore muscles and weak bones that came along with the post-death healing process.

She had me underneath her, tongue making it's way down my neck, leaving wet, hot kisses everywhere. I groaned as she moved on me, slowly, repeatedly, my hips following her rhythm instinctively. I grabbed frantically at the side table, blindly looking for the small square packages that can be found all over her room, thrown haphazardly about during frantic, dark nights and slow, early mornings. It's been only a few weeks and already we have blown through almost half of our supply, thinking not about the difficulty of actually finding a condom nowadays. I should have though of this while I was in town earlier but chances are the stores anywhere near are wiped out completely, and a road trip is starting to sound nice anyways. We got lucky on our last trip into the airport, emptying out some poor soul's packed vacation supply. When my fingers finally found purchase on the object it was seconds too late.

"Shit!" I exclaimed, pushing her off quickly and stumbling into the bathroom. I sighed and closed my eyes, leaning my head against the wall, letting my body finish inside my new, clean pants. I hear her at the door but don't look up, my cheeks hot with shame. It isn't as though this was a rare occurrence, my new body is obviously not able to function on as regular a basis as it used to, leaving us with several uncomfortable conversations and a handful of ruined nights.

I suddenly remembered the violent vomiting incident from earlier this morning and wonder if I should tell Julie, but decide against it; there's no need to worry her now, especially right before her birthday; She's going to be angry enough having received gifts that she insisted we not get her. I cleaned myself up, leaving my pants in a pile on the bathroom floor and walked naked back to her room, where I find she, too, had gotten a head start undressing. She smiled coyly at me and my worries suddenly found themselves far away for the remainder of the night, waking the next morning with the incident completely erased from my mind.

I am glad to have woken first this morning, giving me the perfect opportunity to prepare things; Julie could sleep through a hurricane as long as it was dark out, so I hung a dark blanket over the window and quietly closed the door. Nora arrived just as I was about to string the makeshift 'Happy Birthday' sign I asked the school kids to make. They seem to like me, the children, there is some sort of weird draw toward 'zombies' for them and, even though I am very much alive now, and every day more and more of the dead are coming back to life, they still call me 'Mr. Zombie'. I don't mind, they at least have the decency to treat me with some kind of respect, odd as it may be.

Eggs and bacon are cooking within minutes, the smokey smell wafting through the house, making my mouth water like a fresh, pink brain would have... whoa, I really need to knock that off. Stop thinking dead thoughts; Julie might think it funny with the dark sense of humor she has, but one slip up in a crowded room and its lights out for me. There's already been several attempts made on my life in the past couple of weeks, mostly Grigio's followers and other skeptics believing I've tricked everyone and will come for them after making a meal out of my girlfriend. Julie puts on a tough face, boasting about how she could take any one of them down before they even got to the front door, but she still checks the deadbolt every night before bed.

I heard the door open down the hall and turned, smiling, and was greeted with the most disgruntled look she could possibly have mustered. Julie stood at the edge of the kitchen, clutching a badly wrapped present in the hand of one of her crossed arms. Hip cocked, hair a wild mess of mats and tangles, I smiled a wide grin that said 'you're beautiful even in the mornings'. Or maybe it said 'you're totally not scary right now'. Either way, if she's scary and ugly most mornings, this morning she was especially... unkempt. The way she chucked my present haphazardly at my chest doesn't help the matter either, but I managed to catch it and place it safely on the table.

"Happy birthday," I said, kissing her forehead and attempting to run my fingers through her blonde mess. I failed. She elbowed my ribs and walked over to pick the gift up, waving it in front of my face.

"What is this, R?" the gift coming dangerously close to hitting my face, I grabbed her wrist.

"Well, in my defense you weren't supposed to find it." I replied, prying the gift from her grasp again.

"You didn't hide it very well; seriously, you threw a pile of clothes onto a pair of shoes? Those shoes haven't seen daylight in four years but they happen to be out of the closet this morning. Hmm." Oh right, that's where I put that. I tried to remember why I did such a terrible hiding job when memories of the previous night flashed through my mind. I shook them from my head, remembering Nora's presence.

"Nora got you something, too," What a solid defense. It did deflect her attention though, and I took the chance to finish cooking our meal while she chewed her friend out about making me lie and do her dirty work. Although it's true, I find it funny that she automatically assumes that I was forced to go against her wishes, maybe a jerk reaction from when I was dead and less able to make thoughts of my own.

I was in the middle of flipping the omelets when suddenly I burped, loud and wet, the acidic taste of bile immediately entering my mouth. I swallowed it down with a distasteful expression on my face. Seconds later it happened again, but instead of acidic bile I taste the tangy, metallic taste of blood, yesterdays episode suddenly breaching the front of my memory bank. I managed to swallow it back down as well, and quickly grabbed a glass of water to wash it down with. I drank three cups before I was satisfied that it was going to stay washed down, then turned to see if I'd been noticed. The girls were still arguing, now in the other room, and I sighed in relief. The last thing I needed was to upset Julie today. Anymore than I already had, that was.

I served up the food and we sat down to eat. Julie eventually got over it and opened her gifts, thanking us for the gesture even though we were 'stupid' for it. I smiled and watched them converse about gossip within the town, Nora's love life – or lack thereof, chiming in every now and then but I was, for the most part, content just listening. Her voice reminds me of ocean waves, memories of soft ocean currents and far off gulls enter my head when she speaks and water crashing against rocks when she laughs. It's a good thing, too, since I spent so much time listening to her speak when I couldn't. Had I met a gruff-voiced girl that day and brought her home to my airport I may not have kept her around as long. I think that now, but Julie could have the voice of a monster and I think I'd still love her. I just wouldn't listen to her as much... I realize they're talking to me after a while and think it a good time to tune back in.

"What was that?" I asked, picking up plates and putting them in the sink.

"I said, I want to go outside for my birthday. Grab some food for a picnic and go, I don't know, to a park or something. We can take Mercey," she said, knowing that I'll go anywhere and do anything if I get to drive there. I voiced my agreement and we found ourselves driving along the coastline upstate. I don't usually stray so far from home but the day feels so light it's hard to imagine running into problems, so I step out of my comfort zone and we find ourselves eating peanut butter and jelly sandwiches on a blanket overlooking the coast.

The day goes by quickly and we were driving back far too late, still hours away when the sun began to set. It made me nervous, but we were back within sight of the Stadium before the light was completely gone. We spend the rest of the night drinking beers and talking. About nothing, about everything. Nora talks about boys and Julie listens. Julie talks about light subjects mostly, something she learned at a meeting or how pretty the water looked or how we need to bring home my turntable and records. She smiles and nods and laughs, but I can see the darkness behind her eyes, swimming there with dark memories and broken promises. Her smile falters when her father's name is mentioned at some point, and although she shakes it off quickly I catch it. I get it now, I think, and how could I have not seen it? She didn't want a present or a party or a birthday cake... because her father wasn't here with her. Now I look into her eyes and all they say is 'sad orphan girl,' and it brings me down.

Nora passed out somewhere around two, curled up in a blanket with Julie on the couch, the light of the small television screen flickering onto their faces. The volume was down low, playing some prerecorded reruns on an old DVR box, and I could easily have mistaken Julie as asleep as well, but when I looked over her eyes were wide open and bright. They didn't meet mine when I turned, and I could tell she was lost in thought, the images on the screen blurry like background noise.

"Hey," I whispered, her eyes darting over to mine. She said nothing. Her eyes were wet, tears pooling, dangerously close to falling. I extracted her from the couch, lifting her bridal style and carried her into her room, placing her gently on the bed, tears still glistening safely on the edge of her lids. She sat silently as I gently tugged off her shirt and pants, folding them and placing them neatly on the floor beside the bed. I undressed myself to my boxers and crawled in, coaxing her to lay down and pulling the comforter all the way over our heads. It was pitch black under the sheets, but I still felt the wetness when I kissed her, knew the tears had silently spilled here where it was safe. Her body shook with each silent sob, and I laid there, holding her tightly against my chest, kissing the top of her head and stroking her hair, the only comfort I had to give. My words couldn't help her, she knew it as well as I. It took an excruciatingly long time but eventually she calmed down, and pulled her face from my chest and kissed me. Slow, gentle at first, but with the passing minutes it became heated, her need for comfort replaced with a different kind, and we made love slowly, silently in the dark.

When it was over, and we lay on top of the hot sheets in the dim moonlight, she finally spoke.

"You want to know the really twisted part of it all, R?" I nodded, deftly twirling a strand of her hair in my fingers. "All I can think of is how I miss my mother." she doesn't meet my eyes, and the guilt in her expression surprises me.

"After all the horrible death that has happened lately – my father, Perry – the only person I really miss is her. All day I thought about visiting her grave, wanted to be sitting there on an empty hill of dirt with her buried dress. The big two-oh and I don't have any parents to share it with." she met my eyes then, "You're my family now, R. You, Nora, and Rosy. I can't express how grateful I am that you're here. My zombie boyfriend, the best one a girl could ask for."

I smiled, kissing her forehead. She smiled, too, finally. "How about we go tomorrow?" I suggest, "Let's spend all day tomorrow there, visiting her. We can make PBJ's again and bring the red blanket, okay?" she nodded vigorously and I found her mouth with mine.

She straddled me then, kissing me with fervor and passion, her slender body grabbing me hard, rough, her face smiling and her eyes laughing. That carefree spirit was back, ocean waves rolling in her laughter, crashing against my soul. I could not have imagined a more perfect night, do not have a memory as great as right in that moment, everything joyous and light, hushed laughter and warm sighs.

Everything was perfect.

So I really wasn't expecting it to happen again right then, at the worst moment it could have possibly chosen.

A/N: Well, this is my first fanfiction that I've written since the eighth grade, and it's my first draft. So, that being said, constructive criticism is welcomed.


	2. Chapter 2

Everything was perfect.

So I really wasn't expecting it to happen again right then, at the worst moment it could have possibly chosen. Julie's front pressed against the wall, her slender back warm and soft sliding against my torso. I press my face into her neck and inhale her scent deeply, laying soft kisses along her shoulder and up her neck, noises of enjoyment escaping her mouth so quietly I barely hear them. But I can hear, much better than I had when I was Dead, sharper and smoother, like someone has opened the glass window they'd been speaking behind for years, and it's helping speed things along very well. I can feel it nearing, that pressure building up in my groin... In my stomach... Now it's...in my chest, and I burp a little on accident. Ugh, gross, I hope she was too distracted to hear me. I shake my head a little and grab her waist, moving it quicker in unison with my hips, her little noises becoming louder as we increase in speed. I feel the pressure low again and go faster yet, leaning my head backwards, closing my eyes as I look toward the ceiling. She grips one of my hands with hers, digging with her nails into my flesh... and I feel it in my stomach again. A horrible, cramping sensation this time, like my stomach is collapsing in on itself. It catches me off guard and I falter in my movement but continue, slower. 'Don't stop...' she whispers, so I don't. I keep going, ignoring the sensation in my belly. I almost think it's gone away when it finally happens – I vomit.

Horrible, black globs of death come shooting uncontrollably from me. I manage to miss most of her body but splatter all over her yellow wall, ruining paintings and staining frames. Awful, dark red and partially clotted, I manage to extract my body from hers and push her to the side as I fall on my arms, bare naked, into the pile of crimson liquid. I think Julie is screaming but I can't be sure, my ears are clogged like I'm underwater, my brain only able to concentrate on my esophagus contracting and expanding, emptying the liquid out of wherever in me it had been stored. It's such a painful feeling, unlike anything I remember of being sick before, like instead of fighting a virus in me my body decided to push it out in one fell swoop, taking some of my blood and parts of my organs along with it. Tears drip down my face into the pile, and I open my eyes when I think it's finally over. I cough, and more still comes out of my lungs this time. I take a deep wheezing breath before I notice Julie is talking to me. I look over at her and she's kneeling with me, in the bloody mess, eyes wide with her hand in my hair. I open my jaw and pop my ears, sound finding its way into my brain again at an alarming volume. She is still yelling, out of panic I think, asking over and over what was wrong, if I was okay, what the fuck was happening.

"S...Sorry, Julie," I reply, shakily sitting up onto my knees.

She shakes her head fast and hard, "What do you mean sorry? What's happening, why is there blood in your stomach, R?" God, she doesn't think I ate someone, does she? Thinks I had some late night flash back to my former self, decided to have one last bite while I was out?

"Don't know," I reply, hoping my honesty is apparent. I stand and she follows, grabbing my face on both sides and uses a thumb to wipe my mouth clean. I must look like I did way back then, on that first day we met, chin dripping with Perry's blood, brain matter splattered all over myself. She looks worse than shell-shocked, standing there stroking my face and staring blankly down at my bloody torso.

"...Julie?" She snaps her head up and pulls me by my wrist into the bathroom, starting the shower, pushing me in it while it's still cold. I cringe, but don't resist, running the water into my mouth, rinsing and spitting repeatedly, trying to get the taste out. I hear her shuffling around in the kitchen and catch a glimpse of her in the hallway carrying dirty towels and a bucket. I see Nora follow her in, apparently awake now, and hear her scream, too. I can't make out what words are said but I see Nora run back down the hallway and hear the front door open and shut. She bailed, probably too sickened by the site to help Julie. It's five in the morning on her birthday night and she's cleaning up my mess. Guilt hits me in the chest and I try to hurry and finish so I can help her but I find myself in a coughing fit, blood splattering all over the while tile walls. Panic starts to well in my chest and breathing becomes harder, my head light and suddenly woozy. The water has finally begun to warm and it makes me unbearably tired, forcing me to sit down, hitting my head on the wall when I move too quickly.

"R!" I jolt up suddenly, confused and groggy, laying on the edge of the tub, wondering when I had fallen asleep,.

"I'm okay," I say in the most reassuring voice I could muster, but it comes out of me like a sick puppy. She gets in the shower with me and squirts a large glob of bath gel in her hand, cleaning first herself with it before kneeling down and covering my body in the floral scented goo. I can't seem to force my head up, so I just rest my head in my arms as she cleans my slumped body, using a cup to pour hot water over me.

"Are you feeling any better," she asks as she rinses my hair. I shake my head. She is straddling me, but I can't manage to feel anything but nauseous. She pushes my head up, pulling my eyes open with her thumbs and looks into them with scrutiny, brows furrowed together hard. I manage to force a weak smile and touch her face. I'm going for sweet but she ignores my gesture and shuts the water off.

"C'mon, were bringing you to the hospital, and Nora's meeting us there," she says as she towels herself off. I jerk my head back up at this.

"No, Julie, please? They'll just send me down to the lab and start doing all kinds of test on me and it's your birthday and..." I stop when I notice she's left the room. It takes every once of energy I have but I manage to stand, on shaky limbs, and get out of the shower. I find her in her room already half dressed. She bends down to grab her pants and I grab her arms, pushing her gently to the wall and pinning her there, forcing her to look at me.

"I don't want to go there, Julie, please. Not tonight." my eyes plead with her and she rolls her eyes in return, pushing me off her.

It's another twenty minutes or so of arguing and pleading and I'm sitting in the lobby of the Stadium hospital staring at the floor. Even at this time of night the room is full of people, but it's dead silent. Every single person is staring at me, some with the same frightened looks that I was given when I was dead, others with fascination, curiosity, and the rest pretending that they're not. I seem to have become something of a legend around town, so in return I tend to keep myself hidden. It is hard, though, to remain invisible in a crowded room. Julie is filling out paperwork next to me, ignoring everyone with pursed lips, only speaking to ask me a question or see how I'm feeling. I insist that I'm okay, and I think I might be now. My hands no longer shake and, besides the hollow feeling in my stomach, I feel almost normal.

After what could have been hours or days of uncomfortable silence a nurse finally comes to get me, smiling falsely to all her early morning patients, and the three of us walk in the dimly lit hallway to ward a back room. I briefly wonder where Nora the nurse has run off to when I see her across the phone bank, pulling a scrub top on and grabbing a blood pressure meter. _Sphygmometer_, the word flows behind my eyes suddenly, a flash back into days of medical terminology and studying anatomy. I remember reading a copy of Nora's once, when I was dead, but this doesn't flow from the same time, doesn't have that blurry but readable texture to it. This comes dreamlike into my head, like something from another life, or perhaps my old life, the only part of me that has gone unhealed.

The nurse doesn't speak, she doesn't ask me questions or smile reassuringly anymore, she takes my temperature, looks in my eyes and checks my pulse silently, her facade washed away with morning coffee. Julie stands in the corner glaring at her. I give her a questioning look but her gaze doesn't leave the nurses face until she's gone from the room and we're left alone. She hops up on the table next to me with the clipboard still in her hand and fans through the pages until she reaches the final page, which contains only two words and two square boxes: _Alive_ and _Dead_. Underlined and circled in red marker, the word _Dead_ is checked. I shrug.

"Don't worry, Julie, technically I fall under the category. I'm sure they mean it as previously. Besides, why are you offended, ashamed of your zombie boyfriend finally?" I smirk and squeeze her shoulder. She pushes me gently.

"Rude! How could you say that about me? I just think that it shouldn't be so black and white here, in a hospital of all places. It's not simply live and dead anymore, they need to leave room for the in between." She pulls the pen out from under the clip and writes, in large, red letters, '_Post-Death_', drawing and checking a box parallel.

"Oh good, I'm a whole new category – _Post. _That'll go over well, 'Hey you, yeah, Post guy!' I simply cannot wait for that one to catch on. I'll be getting the newspapers in no time," I say, calmly pulling the clipboard from her fingers and placing it on the table across from us.

The door creaks open then, scrubbed up Nora coming through it pulling a large metal cart full of medical devices I've never seen or heard of before, in this life or the last apparently. Julie hops down to stand next to the cart, fingering wordlessly through the drawers and bins.

"Quit touching, butterfingers," Nora mutters quietly as she pulls the blood pressure meter up my wrist and arm. I look at the ceiling as the familiar pressure consumes my arm, leaving my hand tingling. I think she might be doing it wrong but I don't say anything. My episodes have nothing to do with blood pressure, and the ceiling is far more concerning, the cracks so deep and wide that I am genuinely concerned that it may collapse any second. She does a dozen or so more tests on me after this that I have no idea if they were done correctly or not, but it doesn't matter because I know that the only outcome to this scenario ends up with me in an MRI machine in the lab. I ask her what each one is and does, it's medical and common name, if it was made before the Dead or after, and how they work. She only has about half the answers I'm looking for but the information is satisfying, the words palpable and hearty on my tongue, my mind readily accepting them and placing their information neatly near the front. I start to wonder what my profession might have been before I died, if I was possibly a nurse or a doctor or studying to be a doctor. Possibly a phlebotomest, a dental hygienist, or maybe even a vet tech, although I imagine I would have more animal science locked away if that were the case.

I have wires stuck to seven different parts of my stomach leading into a square, metal box that displays green letters on a black screen when Julie speaks.

"You sure seem interested in all this stuff, R," she's sitting on the empty table next to me, holding her chin with one hand and touching my hair with the other. I can tell she's beyond bored, but I haven't heard a single complaint yet. I'm grateful, knowing that if she asked I would excuse her immediately, but I don't want her to leave, don't want to be shipped off to the lab alone. I'm no child, and even in my most terrified moments I can stand tall, but every time I see that white lab coat, a syringe with an off colored liquid, hear them speak to each other in hushed voices, I always get the feeling that they won't be releasing me at the end of the day.

"I think I was in the medical profession. You know, before the whole dying thing happened." She raises her brows to this.

"Really?" she asks, her voice piqued with interest, "You're starting to remember things from your past then?" I shake my head.

"No, not really," her face falls a bit at this, and she goes back to playing with my hair. "More like certain things sound... familiar. No memories, yet." It wasn't a complete lie, but I don't want to tell her the full truth, not here at least, not now. I trust Julie with my life, and Nora close to it but... it's everyone else I worry about. I don't need to be giving them any more reasons to run tests on me.

That has turned out to be my profession here in the Stadium – lab rat. Well, they call me 'Test Subject 001' and claim free will to leave but I've yet to push that right, not knowing whether they are held to good standards. What's one less zombie if it benefits the human race, I guess?

It's a long time before I'm off the table, well into late afternoon before I actually see a doctor. Julie is somewhere in the hospital on a mission to find food when a man in gray slacks and button down shirt enters the room. I sit up straight, making sure to act as human as possible: look him in the eye, deep breaths, little sniffles. Julie may have changed my information in the nurses original paperwork, but he's thumbing through Nora's test results and I do not know what is written on them. I don't need my medical doctor thinking that I am anything less than a living human right now. A fully functioning human who pukes up oily slop every few hours. After a few minutes in uncomfortable silence, I clear my throat. It seems to distract him from his papers, glancing over at me briefly before looking back down, frowning. He slaps the folder down suddenly, surprising me and making Nora jump in the seat she has taken in the corner, ripping the stethoscope from his neck and checking my chest for sound. He grabs the _otoscope, _my mind pouring the word into my vocabulary, and looks in my eyes for a long minute.

He pulls back and frowns at me for another minute, staring. Nora looks between us uncomfortably before he finally speaks. "You're dead." I frown, confused.

"You have been fucking dead the entire time!" I glance at Nora and she looks as baffled as I feel.

"I was, sir. Is that... a problem?" he scoffs, ripping through the paperwork again.

"Every single sheet in here says you are alive when, clearly, you are not."

"Sir?" Nora asks, startled when he flings the door open in response.

"You, young miss, have wasted hours upon hours of this hospital's time doing tests made for the _living,_ not the dead!" She stands, eyes wide, and holds the clipboard in front of herself defensively. He continues, his voice raising in volume, "If you have learned so little here that you would be so completely incompetent as to not recognize a live test from dead one then I don't know what you are doing here. Both of you, out of my office and sight. Take him to the lab!" he yells. Julie is at the door now, peering in from the hallway with a half opened cup of dehydrated noodles in her hands.

The doctor turns to leave but is blocked by Julie, staring at him with wide eyes.

"What's the problem?" her tone is curious, but I can feel the ferocity in her voice, on the very edge of tipping over. I fear what would happen if he pushes her over the edge, the long hours spent in the hospital obviously wearing her patience thin. He tried to move past her but she places a firm hand on his chest, shoving him back. "What is the problem?" she asks again firmly.

The doctor looks aghast, and the tension is suddenly palpable, the entire room feeling suddenly hot.

"And who, might I ask, are you?" he asks, inclining his head disdainfully.

Here it comes, my least favorite part of the day – Julie's detonation, when she reaches the end of her very short fuse and topples over the edge of discomfort into furious. She stands very tall, rigid and tense, her eyes burning into his.

"I, sir," she spits, "am Senior Officer Cabernet, second in command to Colonel Rosso. Your patient is Private R and he is under my command. You are required by law to surrender the Private's medical information over to his commanding officer. That being said, you might be wanting to tell me what the problem is here." She cocks her head, waiting for a response. The doctor looks at her for a while, contemplating whether or not to believe her words.

Hesitantly, he replies, "Well, Senior Officer Cabernet, it seems that we have had a miscommunication within the staff. Someone has tampered with the paperwork and my nurses have performed medical tests specifically designed for the living on my patient who is clearly a deceased. The Dead belong in the lab where they perform specific tests designed for them." The sentence, while very obviously forced out, came out very direct. The racism within it was almost unnoticeable, but Julie saw it as well as I. This doctor does not help the Dead.

"Private R is not deceased, he is post-Death and making a fine recovery."

He sighs, "The Dead do not recover, _Senior Officer_. I have spent years in the lab, testing hundreds upon hundreds of zombies and they have all determined that the Dead are incurable. No amount of medicine will help them, and their sudden second-life is a fluke. The patient's symptoms have made it very clear: the Dead will stay dead, one way or another. The only place for him now is the lab, there is nothing more we can do here. Now if you will excuse me I have real patients to attend to. Nurse," he directs at Nora, "Please escort Mr... R to the lab."

Julie salutes, watching him with a hard look as he walks down the hall and around the corner. Nora stands and holds her fist out to Julie, who taps it mildly with her first.

"Nice bullshitting," Nora says quietly, picking the clipboard up from the desk and transferring the papers into the manilla envelope in her hand, "I don't think he bought it, though." I sit dumbly and watch the girls, both standing quietly, thinking to themselves. I would just give in and suggest we visit the lab but I know it's likely to set Julie off again.

I hop down from the table and wrap my arms around her neck, touching her forehead lightly with my lips. Nora leaves the room quietly, closing the door behind her.

She loosely puts her arms around my waist and we stand in silence. I think about where we should be, where I promised her we would go today, and cringe. Another day of her mother's grave left lonely and forgotten to bury into her mind and into my guilty conscience.

"Let's go," I say, pulling Julie towards the door.

Stars are beginning to flood through the cloud cover by the time we've reached the curve in the hill, the small upward rise of land near the eastern edge adorned crooked rows of grey and brown markers. The area is empty, leaving us alone with the graves. Julie stands staring at one particular gravestone, clutching a single dandelion tightly in her hands. We are well into spring now, the warm air pushing weeds and flowers out of the ground. Most are either picked or trampled early on, but this particular flower must have been waiting for this occasion to bloom because it was found in our front yard when we arrived home. Julie cried when I presented it to her, but I think it was the overwhelming pressure of today at fault and not the innocent plant. I wonder what is going through her head as I stand and watch her silent interaction with her mother; her silence in the last hour has me weary, and I wonder how long before she reaches her breaking point with me.

I wonder, too, about what is happening to me. Could it be that the virus within me has not gone, that what I thought was a cure was simply a fluke – a brief period of time that my body resided on the winning side of the battle, only to once again be overcome? Will I recede into my former self once more? Maybe it will be more gradual than last time, a slower heart rate leading to a colder body temperature, my hair will stop growing, my cuts will stop bleeding until I halt. Corpse once more, my mind will turn to mush, my vivid images and memories of the past weeks gone, vanished, scribbled out and tossed away in my garbage can of lost memories within my head. My hear suddenly races, the though scaring me in a way I have not felt in this life yet. I begin to sweat, and my breathing catches. What if everything I have been through, everything I have built with my beautiful girlfriend and my wonderful home and my new friends and memories will vanish, giving way to the sickness inside of me? I do not think there could be a more terrible punishment. Is it my sentence, what I get for the crimes I have committed during my new life? Or is it simply that my body is done fighting, that it is laying down to give in to easier urges, taking a break from fighting and letting it consume me again? Everything is easier when you give up, but seldom is it worth it.

I unfold the red blanket in my arms to distract myself, walking over to Julie's place mark and laying the blanket out by her feet, patting the seat next to me. She looks at the spot for a long time before deciding to oblige, placing the wilted flower gently on the stone block and taking her seat. Summer is around the corner, but the air is still chilled and the clouds suggest precipitation in the near future. I curl the blankets edge up and over her shoulders, handing over the loaf of cheap bread while I open the old jar of peanut butter we discovered on our last trip out of town. The jelly we use is kitchen-made in the cafeteria in the Stadium. It's not very sweet or tasty, but it does balance out the sticky texture of the peanut butter and adds needed calories. She makes her sandwich with the enthusiasm of a child on timeout; I don't know if it's where we are or my new found sickness but I can tell she's somewhere else right now, somewhere dangerous. I remain silent and eat my sandwich, the meal tasting blander than usual.

We walk home in silence, the streets empty but for a few homeless post-zombie stragglers that haven't quite meshed back into society yet. M is waiting outside our door without a key looking slightly perplexed. He has been staying with us in Mr. Grigio's room on and off for the past few weeks when he isn't staying at Nora's. We made the agreement that some nights we needed to ourselves, but tonight is obviously not going to be one of those nights, so I let him in without a word. We share a look when he notices Julie's face and I shrug, the energy required to even begin telling today's story far gone right now.

When I enter our room the lights are off and she is already in bed under the covers, facing the wall. I strip down to boxers and join her, laying far enough to my side that I don't touch her and stare at the ceiling. Her aversion to me is not only annoying but hurtful. My heart resides in my stomach and as hard as I try I can't get my heart to stop beating so painfully. Have I begun to reverse, began the process once more so that I will wake up some morning with the urge to gnaw on my girlfriend's flesh? Does she wonder the same thing? Maybe I am thinking too hard on it, it is possible I am just ill. The flu is one of the highest causes of death within the Stadium, even with the lab's requirement of the flu vaccine amongst all of the residents. I got my shot the first day I became a living citizen, but many people still catch it. Either way, the painful rejection is causing me anxiety, and I turn to my side and pull Julie towards me. She does not pull away as I had expected, but leans into me, lacing her fingers with mine and pulling my arms tightly around her. I smile a goofy grin and my stomach's wrenching, anxious pain retreats immediately. What I had mistaken for anger at me I now realize to be something else, and I hear the little sniffle now, her telling sign. For being such a spit-fire tough girl, when we're alone and she is within safe walls it always comes out. But she is hiding her sorrow from me this time, likely for my benefit. She must know I am terrified as well. Her breathing steadies, and I follow her in sleep soon after, the exhaustion of the day finally having won over my body.

A/N: after the beginning paragraphs this chapter seems a bit slow but it'll speed up again soon.. and I got tired of it just sitting in my word processor so here it is.


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